About 5 months have passed since I last wrote one of these useless entries. Then why do I keep writing? To be honest - the idea of someone I have never, and will never meet reading these is strangely inviting. I know they'll make judgements, and I'll know nothing about them.

I got through my GCSE's unscathed, had a fucking awesome summer holiday, the best 8 weeks of my life, and entered the depths of college where I now reside as a bored teen. I smoke about 10 a day, flip back and forward from tradgedy to bliss with my current girlfriend, and find endless new things to keep me from ending it all. I met her years ago, but we hated each other more or less. Anyhoo - she was a friend of a friend of mine, and we met at a drunken party all over again. After 101 breakups and reunions, we seem to be ok for now. I know that sooner or later, me talking endlessly about the stars or Descartes will piss her off, and it'll be my own fault. But right now, the mix of panic and euphoria seem to keep me just where I want to be. Lying in bed with her watching the constellations. There appears to be no cure for the human condition.

Alas - I depart. How cliché. In human terms, I'm tired, I have college in about 7 hours, and I've got 101 thoughts to mindlessly sort through.

And her ghost beamed down to kiss me, With a message from the sun.

Redshift.